


HIATUS HUNT

by fabflyingfox



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:03:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabflyingfox/pseuds/fabflyingfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is ANDREW HUSSIE and you have a popular WEBSITE by the name of MS PAINT ADVENTURES for which you slave over your work called HOMESTUCK.</p><p>You have just announced your HIATUS to work on the KICKSTARTER GAME and boy, do you have a lot of work to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	HIATUS HUNT

You name is Andrew Hussie, and the date is April 14th, 2013. You have just published your announcement that you will begin a MEGAPAUSE on your beloved web comic, Homestuck. You can hear the fandom crying in the distant corners of your skulls and clasp your fingers as you peer at the screen of your computer monitor. 

"And so it begins," you mutter out, an extended sigh escapes your lips as you furrow your brow. You have been working tirelessly over this web comic on an almost daily basis for quite a long amount of months in order to finish it before 2014, but putting off the starting draft of the video game your fans threw money at you for like a 6 level hurricane - _yes you realize hurricane levels only go up to five_ \- is far out of the question at this point in time.

You look back up at the cherub on your screen as your animated face becomes littered with the flashes of red x's. He may be your creation, but you feel him mocking you.

_"This is going to be a rather intensive few months."_

\---

Two days in, and you hardly notice where you are.

It was a bad idea to mix magic potions on that slip 'n slide down the road (was there a carnival in town, or was that all in your head?), but you hardly care about that right now. You have to draw out the basic story board for the video game. 

Y'know, that thing you said you would start working on two days ago.

The reason you started on this hiatus.

"...."

Quit looking at me like that and focus on your part in the story. Don't let that headache deter you.

You hear a knock on your front door and a doorbell ring. Who could that possibly be?

You peer at the stairs outside of your office with speculation. You had your characters warn everyone about the stairs. _Why did you continue to live with a flight of them right outside your study door?_

No matter, you knew how to solve this issue. You disappear into your study and come back out holding a smuppet toboggan. Where the hell did you get that thing, anyways, _and why is there a plush rump seat in it?_

"......"

Okay, right, that fan from East Coast Comic Con. Never forget.

You whip the smuppet toboggan under your fresh rump and propel it down the flight of fat nasty trash stairs. Suddenly you don't take so kind to the narrator's choice of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff references and glare into paradox space. At light speed, you descend into the abyss.

As the artificial wind whips your fabulous flowing two-inch locks, you close your eyes briefly and wonder why someone would knock AND use the doorbell. That just seems way too silly. You've written far sillier, but not in the name of visitors to anyone's homes.

...Or have you???

As you find yourself at the end of the stairs, the toboggan makes a sudden squeak as you stand up off its plush rump - _no don't ask me why it didn't squeak when you sat down what do you think this is a smut fic chill out_ \- and peer through that contraption you can never remember what to call it... eye looker? Peep hole? Looker hole?

Those all sound too not safe for work, and this is your story about creating a video game.

You see through the peer hole-contraption a man: skin tanned, muscles ripply, lush ebony dreads. _Oh my._

He turns to leave a rather large brown package at your doorstep, one far too large to not cause suspicion. For a brief moment, you wonder if one of your fans realized where you lived and shipped themselves in a large box to cut down on airfare (which is stupid). Then you realize there's no air holes.

Damn. You may have a corpse party on your hands if you don't get out of that door and inspect the package.

_No, don't drop the smuppet toboggan, Hussie, you might need that walking out on your front doorstep in case it is one of your hectic crazy fans._

As you turn the handle on the door, you eye your neighborhood suspiciously. You haven't looked out the front of your house for anything outside of a stress-relieving conga line for a few months now, and you could just feel the neighborhood kids watching from their television screens as you take gingerly steps toward the giant shipping box.

You hear no noises emitted from the box.

You whack it with the smuppet toboggan, only to hear the giggling emitting from its plush rump - _"Wait, what?"_

_Let's just forget the smuppet toboggan changes noises._

You attempt something extremely silly.

No, get off that step ladder onto your roof to go for a warmhearted jig about pirate dong. You have a much more important job to do!

....HUSSIE GET OFF YOUR NEIGHBORS LAWN FOR PETE'S SAKE THAT ACTION YOU'RE MAKING IS ILLEGAL IN FIVE COUNTRIES!!

THE FUCKING PACKAGE HUSSIE.

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO LIFT THE PACKAGE.

"Oh."

OH IS RIGHT. REALLY NOW HUSSIE THIS IS SERIOUS.

Oh, good, you're finally back to your porch. Excellent, the box cutter is going to be an excellent tool for opening that package. You glance around your neighborhood to make sure none of the five grandmothers that have already returned home from their morning walks at the mall are watching out of their blinds.

Oh, thank goodness. That one's just a peeping tom.

You gingerly stab the box cutter into the crease of the package above your head - _what is this thing, seven feet tall?_ \- and tear it down toward the ground. A light is shining out from the box and, oh my, could it be... **_COULD IT POSSIBLY BE?_**

**_IT IS._ **

**_SOMEONE SENT YOU YOUR VERY OWN SEAHORSE LUSUS. 100% PUREBREAD FUCKING SEAHORSE MONSTER IN ALL ITS FUCKING GLORY_ **

Awh, hell, you might be on this hiatus longer than you previous thought.

**"RIDE ON YEEHAW"**

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea in sleep deprivation last night. I am so sorry.
> 
> This work is dedicated to every single one of you that reads this. Yes. Meet me in bed with a candle stick and 20 donuts in twelve minutes.
> 
> Happy Hiatus everyone.
> 
> (Image pulled from http://mousathe14.tumblr.com/post/43759578059 if a problem I will take it out)


End file.
